Devil's Compensation
by Larkawolfgirl
Summary: Somewhere in the depths of her mind she could remember a time when her only desire had been to see Madoka smiling, but now the cravings of her body pushed everything else aside. Of course she loved this girl, but it was a hunger, a possession. WARNING: Rape/Non-con
**AN:** This was written for Tumblr user homurahyakuya who said that the fandom is in some need of more smut, especially angsty smut. I'm happy to present this, but keep in mind that it is only my second time writing yuri smut.

Homura entered the room, feeling heat spread through her immediately. Tonight would be fun, she thought absently. It wasn't like her nights were ever dull anymore, after all. Her eyes roamed to the nude girl confided to her bed. A muffled sound escaped her, but Homura ignored it momentarily, first shedding her camouflage school uniform so that she stood there in unshielded beauty.

Homura studied the girl laying on the bed. She was bound in thin layers of rope to the bed posts, eyes shielded by a black blindfold, mouth held slightly open by a ball gag. She was truly a beautiful sight, defenseless, exposed, and immaculate. Even here, caught in a devil's trap, she still shown like the goddess she was, only losing some of that holy light in fits of passion. Seeing her squirm with bodily need gave Homura a mysterious pleasure.

Somewhere in the depths of her mind she could remember a time when her only desire had been to see Madoka smiling, but now the cravings of her body pushed everything else aside. Of course she loved this girl, but it was a hunger, a possession. Besides, Madoka owed her very life to her. Wasn't it within her right to be compensated for the hell she had lived through to get to this moment?

Removing the gag, Homura replaced it with her own insistent mouth, which delve in hungrily, tasting every inch of her warm sweetness—a sweetness foreign to her own wickedness. A small smile touched Homura's lips as the girl struggled against the ropes, causing a stretching sound.

She pulled her lips away, happily watching as a strand of saliva attempted to follow her before breaking. Madoka muttered indecipherable noises. The akuma sighed, brushing her long black hair back in an offhand gesture. "Fine. Speak," she said.

Madoka opened her mouth, but no sound came right away. She resembled a frightened rabbit. "Homura-chan…" She trailed off which was fine, because it gave Homura time to drink in her voice. "How long are you planning to keep me like this?" Her voice was a tremble.

Homura glared at the implication that she was not content with their arrangement. Her hand trailed over her thigh, mostly because she could, but also to make the point that she could. "Forever of course," she said in an all-too-sweet voice. Madoka cringed, and Homura's hand tightened so that the tips of her nails dug into her soft flesh. "Why? Do you dislike being with me?"

Her voice was lost again as she mumbled in displeasure. "Shit!" the akuma's yelled. Vile disgust morphed to nurture. "Why, Madoka? Have I treated you so poorly? Do you despise me so much?"

Madoka's eyes appeared to tighten behind the blindfold, and she shook her head. "Homura-chan." She paused as if that was answer alone. "Please let me go."

"No!" Homura's answer was harsh and immediate. "You will stay here with me. I have worked too hard to let you go now. Not when I know you will be dead before I know it," she trailed her finger lower, poking right against the girl's clitoris, "and not when we could be having such fun." She kissed her again, both in hunger and as a means of ceasing the pointless discussion. The goddess-on-earth's muffles soon turned into pants as the akuma's finger prodded more roughly at her clit. Spreading her thighs apart, Homura lowered her face to her folds. Her tongue darted out, rolling forcefully over her clit before sucking on it.

Madoka shivered beneath her, and moaned low in the back of her throat as her tongue moved to her opening. Homura did this a few times, memorizing each tiny grove as her tongue ran along it. Finally, she pushed in at the base of her opening, loving the tiny noise Madoka made at the sensation. Then she set in for the main course, pushing into her core with increasing pressure. Thighs quivered in her hold with each swirl of her tongue.

Sweetness enveloped Homura, and she moaned herself. She would never have enough of Madoka, of her sweetness, which was her essence. This was the part of Madoka she most craved, her taste, her selflessness, her shine. However, this liquid sweetness was her favorite, because it flowed through her, a part of Madoka she could claim fully as her own. It was something no one else had known—not in any timeline—and this satisfied an egotistical joy each time she swallowed these lewd meals.

Madoka never said she enjoys this, but Homura no longer cared. Madoka was hers to do with as she pleased, and as long as Madoka's body reacted to her, that was enough.

Homura moved a hand lower, pressing against her clit with her thumb. Madoka cried out in pleasure, and the akuma smiled against her. She began to push her tongue in and out, little jabbing motions that sent Madoka into a heaving mess.

The girl was getting close, and Homura was suddenly overtaken by the desire to watch her face as she cums. She pulled back—eliciting a whine of protest from Madoka which was music to the akuma's ears—and untied the blindfold, letting it fall to the mattress. Madoka's eyes were clouded over with lust, unfocused entirely. Tiny tears rested there, a permanent addition to her facial features as of late. Homura licked at the corner of each eye before inserting her index finger into her opening.

Her finger pumped into her with quick motions as her thumb work to bend and prod at her clit. Grabbing at the girl's breast with the other hand, she hovered just above her lips so that she could feel every outburst of air she was causing.

Madoka's entire body quivered as her orgasm hit her, cry resounding through the room, eyes leaking more tears, face painted a deep shade of red, head pushed upward so that their lips met. Homura shivered with satisfaction as she kissed her with frenzy.

Parting, she dabbed two fingers into the mess Madoka left on the white bedsheet. She brought it to her lips, savoring the irresistible sweetness. Madoka eyed her as she did so. Next, Homura pushed the coated finger to the girl's own lips, causing her to gripe in protest. Homura smeared the substance so that it looked like mock-lipstick. She leaned in, licking along her succulent lips, moaning at that richness.

Homura imagined eating all of Madoka, filling her whole self with her desire, to become one being entirely, inseparable. But she let the thought fade, intelligent enough to know that while some of Madoka would stay with her, it would not be worth the unavoidable loss.

This reminded her of how they had gotten to this point in the first place—Madoka's sacrificial nature and absolute disregard for Homura's feelings—and this spurred her possessiveness further.

"You are mine," she said stroking through glossy pink strands of hair. "You are mine and will continue to be mine until I say otherwise." She tightened her hand, wrenching the girl's head back. "Now, you are going to be a good girl and pleasure me."

Madoka started to whimper, but it was soon drowned out by Homura's pussy coming down upon her face. At first she did nothing beside continue her whimpering, which sent a tingle of sensation through Homura, but it was not enough, and soon the akuma was grinding down upon her face. Madoka's cries were load enough to be heard now, even though muffled, but she obediently flicked her tongue out and across her waiting lips.

Homura sighed contentedly, letting her head lull back. "Yes. That's good, Madoka," she praised while petting along her cheekbones, feeling her tongue moving within her mouth. She had been wet for a while now, and the girl's tongue slid in effortlessly. The akuma groaned out, fisting the bedsheet with a hand. She honestly could not decide which gave her more pleasure, watching the goddess thrash beneath her or feeling her inside.

Madoka's tongue rubbed against her walls and found that nerve within her quickly enough. It didn't take Homura long, it never did—not with Madoka. Homura's breathing shallows into tiny bursts of air, and she ground herself down upon the girl, forgetting momentarily that she needed breathe. She could feel her muscling coiling, and she gripped the sides of Madoka's face, forcing her to swallow.

Dislodging herself, Homura stared at the beautiful mess Madoka made, mouth smeared with white, lips red and swollen. "Lovely," she said before resting her head upon the girl's bosom. "I will never have my fill of you."

Madoka whined again, but it held little power now, her body laying slack and submissive.

"The world can burn for all I care. You are all that matters. So, don't worry my little Madoka," she said sickeningly sweet. "We will be having lots of fun."


End file.
